Whatever Time We Have Left
by TC Stark
Summary: What was the point in being immortal if all those around you couldn't be? Captain Steve Rogers has seen a lot of tragedy in his life. His gift was to be around long enough to help eliminate some of it. But, he can never change the fact that eventually...all those he knows and loves will eventually pass. Rather M for mature content. Primary Steve/OC, secondary Loki/Natasha
1. Chapter 1

TC Stark: Alright, alright – hello, all! So, I know I have other projects to work on and I have certainly written my fair share of Marvel stories, but I had to write this. I've had this idea for about a year now and I had to get it out. I want this to be a serious story – drama, heart wrenching shit, mystery, some humor, adventure, lust, love, pain – just write a well rounded story. The main story line will be between Steve Rogers and my OC – which is the first time I've really written an OC who has powers, so let me know if I'm doing something wrong. The secondary will be between Natasha/Loki. I love that pairing – it's so dark and sensual and it gives me another chance to write them, though; it's definitely a different story line than _Prisoner of War. _Anyways, please enjoy my story. All opinions are welcomed.

Disclaimer: I only own my OC and my ideas. I do not make any money off this. My only reward is providing a good story for the readers.

Chapter One

Looking back on the events of the recent past, it almost seemed ludicrous that the _Avengers Initiative _had originally been deactivated. Funny even. Humorous that the higher council of SHIELD could deem a team of _superheros _dedicated to protect the world not needed. That they wouldn't want a group of extraordinary people to call upon when the world was in danger and no one of ordinary human capacity could defeat.

That kind of thinking had almost been the downfall of Earth. Suddenly, they were needed. A certain God of Mischief decided to make the planet humans called home his playing ground. What would have happened if those extraordinary people hadn't originally been roped in? If they hadn't even been called upon by SHIELD? Would the world be in a much different place; astray from the normal day to day lives they were living thanks to the Avengers.

After the god Loki was defeated, Nick Fury had allowed the members of the Avengers to go their separate ways. They had deserved it after all. The battle against Thor's adoptive brother and the Chitari had been exhausting. Grander and more dangerous than any other battle that anyone had ever seen before. They had all come extremely close to losing their lives. To becoming slaves to Loki's rule – the one eyed director figured they earned the time off.

Loki had been taken back to Asgard – to receive his punishment from his peers. From his father, who had held the most life changing secret from him his whole life. Nick Fury figured that Thor had taken care of it – the God of Thunder still loved his brother. It was evident from the way he had even defended him to Natasha, despite the fact that his sibling was looking to destroy the world. The director suspected because of the love the family had for Loki that even though the punishment would be severe – it wouldn't be death.

The world wasn't in danger. None that could be easily seen at least. Fury had been in the business long enough to know that the world was always in trouble. It was just the level of what that danger was – then they would figure if action needed to be taken. So far, nothing had reeled its ugly head. With Loki away and no other world threat – everything seemed fine.

Still, Fury wanted to assemble the team. Have them be aware of each other – talk about what was happening with the world. Touch upon a few subjects – how to improve their strategies. While they had all worked well together the first time – after their initial disputes – there really wasn't much structure. It was a group full of strong personalities and because the initiative had been deactivated before, none of them had a chance to truly been briefed.

Only Barton and Natasha had been keeping up with their training. They may have taken some time off, but they were still agents of SHIELD and spent their time working for the director. That's what it meant to dedicate yourself to your life's work. And even thought hey had all gotten over the first hurtle – there would be more battles. Victory could only last for so long.

On a particular day that they were all set to meet; Captain Steve Rogers was first. Always the punctual one. That kind of behavior would never leave the American hero. Besides, SHIELD took great care of him. They were basically responsible for his well being – making sure he was well adjusted to a world he had no idea about. The man had sacrificed a lot for his country, the least they could do was provide him with an apartment, monthly funds, and whatever else he needed to survive.

"Captain." Director Fury nodded his head, his hands behind his back as the all American boy walked through the door.

Steve Rogers – fresh faced as always – smiled while giving the one eyed man a strong handshake. His hand gripped Fury's tight; the true handshake of a soldier. Of a captain - "Good to see you again, Fury."

Finally, their hands released as the small talk began, "All is well I hope?"

"It's getting better. More volunteers are coming by to help every day."

After the attack on New York City, the island was a mess. Despite being the ones responsible for their safety, the people also partially blamed the Avengers for the wreckage. It was hard for the people to get back on their feet – many businesses were ruined. Homes destroyed. Loved ones killed as a result of Loki's attempt to conquer the human race.

Tony Stark had done his job in offering money to help rebuild many of said destroyed buildings. Steve, though; was more of a hands on person. He felt much more comfortable stepping out and physically helping the people of Manhattan. SHIELD viewed this as a good thing – it offered good press for the Avengers and besides, the kids loved seeing Captain America.

"As long as you're keeping yourself busy."

The small talk had ended once the doors opened and Agent Natasha Romanoff walked in, followed by Dr. Bruce Banner. While the redhead continued her work for the agency, the doctor had gone back to India to continue his charity work there. It seemed like he had gone back with a better spirit than before – at least knowing and being familiar with people similar to him. Knowing he had allies, rather than those out to get him.

Agent Barton soon followed, Thor in tow. Jane Foster had been working day and night ever since the god first left Earth. And once Loki came to Earth, her work had really gone into over drive. And after much research, SHIELD had actually found a successful way to contact the prince. Which, was very helpful in calling him in for a meeting.

Last time they had all seen each other, Thor was hauling Loki off in cuffs. Back to Asgard. That was a joyous time. They hadn't been able to meet under such light circumstances before. So, it was nice for them all to be together and there not to be an immediate threat. They could actually smile and laugh and small talk.

It was especially nice for Natasha, who had never had that before. Living and growing up as a trained assassin left little room for _normal _human contact. There had been no family bonding, no friends – nothing that almost ever person on the planet was able to have. No basic human rights. So, to actually feel like she wasn't a monster for once was nice. Everyone standing around – in civilian clothing – as if they were all long life friends.

The doors opened once again and Tony Stark waltzed in his usual fashion, "Mr. Stark, so glad you've _finally _made it." Fury announced upon seeing the billionaire walk in.

"Well, you know, I've got important things to do," Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, turning his head around – observing his surroundings – before pointing over towards the group, "Ah, the gang's all here. Cap, Thunder God – Dr. Banner, a pleasure as always. And look, our SHIELD children are here too." He referred to Natasha and Clint.

Eyes were rolled, before everyone took their places in seats surrounding a glass conference table. Director Nick Fury and Agent Maria Hill standing at the head, with a high tech projector screen behind them. He could imagine that everyone would be eager to go back to their day, so it most likely wasn't going to be a long meeting.

"So, um, big guy, little suggestion – if you're planning on taking your girlfriend out today, I'd suggest losing the cape." Tony Stark _suggested _towards Thor, while leaning towards him.

"What I do on Earth is none of your business." The Thunder God scolded the Iron Man.

Nodding his head, the billionaire leaned back into his chair before turning towards Bruce, "That means him and Foster are skipping dinner."

Before anything could break loose, Fury cleared his throat loudly, "_We _are waiting for one another person, if you all would just be patient and _behave_." He instructed pointedly.

Holding his hands up, Stark defended, "Yes, teacher. Um, by the way – who are we waiting for? I see everyone is accounted here."

"Someone who was unavailable before."

Just as Tony was about to object, the doors opened once more. Instantly, Natasha let out a soft chuckle – to which Tony spun his head quickly and looked at the Black widow - "Agent Stygar, never thought I'd see you again."

The _agent _addressed, casually stepped forward while her non accented voice spoke flatly, "It's been a long time."

Everyone – besides those who worked for SHIELD – watched this mystery woman shake the hands of both Natasha and Clint, before nodding over to Fury and sitting in the front. She seemed...not cold – aloof really. Her hands stuck in the pockets of her waist length leather jacket. Body seemed toned. Like all the agents. Thinner than Natasha, though; not tall like Hill. Feminine athletic shape. Average height. Perhaps 5'5". Wearing form fitting black jeans, black combat boots. A white shirt under her jacket. Peach skin. A freckle here and there on her cheeks. Green eyes. Bright orange hair that hung straight down in a long braid, a medium thick cloth headband holding her locks back. Seemed to be about in her mid-twenties. Twenty-six perhaps?

"Everyone, meet Agent Tilda Stygar." Director Fury introduced, though; the girl only sat forward, not really acknowledging anyone else.

"_Ugh, _and who is she?" Tony Stark asked, confused and not entirely convinced she should be there.

"You can find all of my information on the SHIELD database, Mr. Stark." Tilda's indifferent voice clipped.

There was a bit of a smirk on the other agents' faces, though; all turned stone faced once the director began talking again, "Alright, now that we are all acquainted. Thank you for making it here. As you know, one year ago the island of Manhattan was nearly leveled due to Loki's attack-"

"Yes, I believe we, ugh, stopped that." Tony interjected.

Rolling his eyes, Bruce insisted, "Can you let him finish?"

Once again Stark threw his hands up, as Fury went on irritably, "Yes, I am aware of that. Thor, what has happened to Loki since then?"

"He is imprisoned within the walls of the palace in Valhalla, until the Allfather deems him fit to be released." Thor responded.

"Should he ever?" Natasha scowled.

"He is my brother and of loyal blood – Odin is saddened deeply and hopes there will be a time when Loki is a changed man."

"Well, let's not hold our breath," Fury clipped, before continuing, "Now, just to go over a few things – Libya one year after the fall of it's leader, they still don't have any form of government and the country is slowly falling to the militia-"

A clearing of the throat interrupting the director's sentence. Of course it would be the billionaire philanthropist who did so, "Ehem, ugh, yes, question – what does this have to do with us? No offense, as much as _I _personally try to help the middle east, I don't see how this particularly has anything to do with... _the Avengers._"

Before Fury was able to say anything, Bruce Banner interjected, "I do have to agree. Shouldn't we be trying to _not _draw attention to ourselves? I mean, there are still a lot of people out there who really don't like us."

Once again, Fury was stopped from responding by Tony who had another issue to address, "And also, no offense again, but..._what _is she doing here?" The Iron Man asked, referring to Tilda who had just been sitting there; "I mean, _we _have all earned our keep here. We have two star assassins here, a god, a genetically modified soldier, me of course, and a hulk. I haven't seen one reason why ugh, _Agent _Stygar should be here."

Seemingly satisfied with his argument, Tony Stark sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. Just as he was about to reach for his can of soda, it seemingly lifted up in the air. Everyone's attention now on the hovering can. Slowly, it began to move – until it headed towards Tilda's hand. Floating about a foot above the desk. Soon her fingers finally gripped onto it, before popping it open and taking a sip.

Tilda looked stone faced, resuming her attention towards Fury. As if asking him to continue. But, it was Tony who spoke up, "Great – a psychic."

"I'm not telepathic. I'm telekinetic. I move things with my minds – I can't read them," She then turned her head towards him and observed, "Though, I don't need to be able to read minds in order to know what you're always thinking."

There was an awkward pause in the room. The air – uneasy. Captain Steve Rogers shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat while looking around. Agents Romanoff and Barton didn't look fazed, but the rest of them were just as confused as he was. It was a very rare thing for _the _Tony Stark to be speechless after all.

Clearing his own throat – to get everyone's attention – Director Nick Fury interjected, "Agent Stygar fell into our hands about ten years ago when SHIELD found out there was a doctor doing experiments on his sixteen-year-old daughter. Trying to use the same techniques used to give Rogers his power. And-"

"Which failed with me." Dr. Bruce Banner finished.

"Hm, yes, it's all here," Stark recovered, flicking around his tablet, "Look at that – Dr. Stygar serving a life sentence for forcibly experimenting on his daughter with an irritated gamma radiated version of the Super Soldier Serum; used on Captain Steve Rogers aka _Captain America. _Also notably a version of the serum used on Dr. Bruce Banner because the actual serum died with Dr. Erskine. Hm."

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Steve interjected, "But, your father helped him with my process."

"Yea, well, he never spoke about it," Tony nonchalantly shrugged, before looking back at Tilda, "Hey, at least you don't turn into a huge green rage monster. You seem to look..._well._"

Bruce let out a deep groan, as Tilda pinched the bridge of her nose, "Now that the question and answer part of this segment is over – can we move on with what Fury had us all come out for?"

Before anyone was able to say another word, the billionaire interrupted, "One more – um, if you've been such a _valuable _asset of SHIELD's all these years – and you know apparently good buddies with _Black Widow and Hawkeye – _where were you when Thor's frosty brother decided to become overlord of the world?"

Tony always had such a way with words. Thor's gaze fixed on Stark as the agent sighed, "I was in the London SHIELD base when Loki made his attack – so..._sorry _I wasn't around; I think you did just fine."

Before anything else was said, Nick Fury harshly cleared his throat and aggravatingly spoke, "Are we _done _with this go around now?" Sighing, he looked over to Agent Hill who had been standing still the whole time, "I think we're about done here. Go about your...daily routines; I don't care." The director sighed, while turning around and clasping his hands behind his back.

Tilda was one of the first to leave, Natasha joining her. Tony Stark left in his usual fashion, leaving only Steve, Thor, and Bruce to say their goodbyes. Turning over to Hill, he nodded, "Thank you, agent, you're free to go now."

Maria nodded, while taking her leave; Bruce collecting his things soon after and heading out of the room, "Dr. Banner." Fury walked along the doctor through the hallway, verbally tugging his ear.

"Hey...Fury." Bruce nodded, holding his briefcase close to his chest.

"I'm in need of your expertize."

Bruce raised his eyebrow. The last time they had asked him for his _research, _they were really just trying to get the Hulk on board with the Avengers initiative. Still, the doctor sighed. He supposed he was indebted to them now. They had done so much for him and upon being around a group of those similar to himself – he supposed they were...his friends? Colleagues at least – so he supposed he owed it to Fury to listen.

"As you have just found out – Agent Stygar was experimented on with a similar serum to what was used on you. It wasn't just a one time dose like what was done on you or Rogers. It was done throughout a few years."

Clearing his throat, the doctor shrugged, "Yea, real tragic. But, you know...as Tony said...at least she doesn't turn into a monster."

The two of them continued walking, before Nick stopped. Causing Bruce to look at the director confused, but who also stopped. With their eyes locked, the darker skinned man explained, "I'd like for you to study her files. Not personally, she'd never allow it. But, she has regular doctor visits and they're all in the private SHIELD medical files. I'll give you access."

"Oh, okay," Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Is there any reason as to why?"

"I believe you'll find out once you begin your studies."


	2. Chapter 2

TC Stark: Yay! My first review! Hello, MutiaRAWR, my loyal friend. I'm happy I'm writing again as well. I had such a bad writer's block before, but I'm happy. This is really jogging my creativity and along with this, I'm still work on my _Trust in Loyalty _fic. And Tilda is a little distant. I wanted to make this a mystery, so I'm not going to reveal too much just yet. So, if you are a little confused as to what everyone is talking about, well good lol I want it all to make sense in the end. I want it to be dark and there to be drama and heart wrenching. Okay, lemme stop before I give too much away. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own my OC and my ideas. I make no money off any of this – just happiness.

Chapter Two

After the _eventful _meeting, the _Avengers _parted ways. Going about their day just as they had before – they all had their own lives to get back to. No one could wait around forever; if there was a threat it was a guarantee that they would all know about it. For the time being, the meeting accomplished its purpose and that was all Director Fury wanted.

Life may had gone on for some, but Steve's days as of late had revolved around SHIELD. Living in an apartment on base, he may have occasionally went out to volunteer and explore the modern world, but his world seemingly revolved around the organization. And every week or so they asked him to stop by the medical wing, for them to check on his vitals and make sure everything was alright. After all, he had just come out of a seventy year frozen sleep and didn't look a day older than he had before the crash.

As usual, the doctors had Steve in nothing more than boxers briefs – running on the treadmill with several sensors hooked up. It was embarrassing, but he supposed it was what he needed to do. They were doctors after all. He supposed he could push aside any personal reservations he had to make sure everything was alright.

Everything had started as a simple experiment. Rogers would have done anything to get in the military and when they had approached him about the project, well it only seemed patriotic to agree. He loved his country and would do anything to protect it. Even if it meant turning himself into a super soldier – a science project. That's what it meant to dedicate oneself to his or her country.

Ultimately, though; he was doing what he had set out to do originally. Helping people. Saving those who couldn't save themselves. It had cost him a good amount – mostly time with the first girl who had ever wanted to give him the time of day. It had thrown him into a world he barely knew and left him feeling constantly out of place. But, it was all for the price of being able to be what he always wanted to be – an American soldier.

"Everything seems fine, Captain Rogers," One doctor stated, while staring at the screen before him, "Vitals are good. Cells look the same. Your DNA structure is in tact. Just as healthy as ever."

Still doing a light jog on the treadmill, Steve sheepishly asked, "Um...do we know...well, when will I start aging? I mean – heh – I am practically over eighty years old."

Another doctor took a glance at his own clipboard and stated, "There's no telling _if _you'll ever begin the aging process. The serum given to you was solid – there were no flaws in it. Therefore it literally made you a super soldier. It's science fiction to think something can be preserved purely by freezing them. That would have killed any other person. It's your cells that had kept you alive – I can't say for certainty if that will ever happen."

Rogers was silent. Unsure of what to say. Or even think. He didn't think while frozen for all those years. It was just...like nothing. Seventy years had passed in a blink of an eye, before he even knew what happened. Before he was even able to see the end of the war, all the wars that proceeded that, before he was able to have that dance with Peggy...before he even knew what his true purpose in life was going to be.

Everything he had ever known and loved were stuck in the 1940s – so how did he even feel about knowing he most likely would never age? Would that make him immortal? No. That wasn't possible. His God would never make something immortal. Everyone had an end eventually – some just needed to wait more than others. But, science had always tampered with religion and they had in fact did something very unholy. They had played god and created Captain America – he supposed that was his curse.

The doors opened and Rogers snapped out of his thoughts. Only to feel embarrassed and stumble slightly, "Captain, we need you to keep your speed for just a few more minutes." One of the doctors insisted.

Steve apologized wordlessly, as Tilda stepped in. Seemingly unfazed, she nodded her head up to Rogers, "Captain."

Gulping, he nodded back, "Hello, Agent Stygar." He was embarrassed. There he was in nothing more than boxer briefs in front of a lady. It wasn't very proper or decent.

Not really caring, the agent walked towards two others doctors who seemed to have a station set up for her. Without hesitating she pulled off her tank top – revealing a sports bra underneath. The world's first avenger needed to look away – not wanting to be rude and stare as she stripped down to her undergarments and was hooked up. Just in the same way he was – though, she didn't look as uncomfortable as he was.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the Avenger glanced over. Like every agent – he was sure – she was fit. Light skinned muscle was toned – tight. SHIELD worked hard to make sure their soldiers were well trained and prepared for any kind of battle. Especially after Loki's attack on the island of Manhattan – they needed to be better equipped for the next evolution of evil. They had underestimated the enemy before, they couldn't afford to again.

Besides noticing the definition of Tilda's muscles, Steve also noticed some ink. It was uncommon for women in his time to have tattoos. The only _men _who got them in fact were those in the military or jail. And the only women who usually got them were those who were...well, _different. _Not that he had a problem with homosexuality, but those were the kind of girls who got inked back in his day.

In the modern world homosexuality wasn't considered a mental disorder anymore and practically everyone of all different races, gender, religions, and sexual orientation got tattoos. So, he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised to see what looked like a fossilized dinosaur taking up most of her left upper thigh. He had no idea what kind, since he didn't want to stare for too long. Doctors really did invade your privacy – even to the point of having two people nearly naked in front of each other.

Soon, Steve's examination was over and he was allowed to step off the treadmill. All too quickly did he throw his slacks on and yank his white tank top on, before buttoning up his light blue collared shirt. He was practically flustered from being so indecent – a huge relief washing over him as he felt the comfort of clothes against his skin.

There were a few more tests the doctors wanted to perform on the captain, which _didn't _require him to be nearly naked. Such exams were the hearing and eyesight ones, which by the time they were over brought him to the moment when Tilda was finished with the treadmill. His vision couldn't help itself from glancing over and noticing all the sensors being pulling off her skin, as well as the breathing tube removed.

Tilda was pulling her pants on, as one of the doctors spoke in a hushed tone, "It's not looking good, Agent Stygar."

Snorting, she did up her zipper and in an uncaring tone said, "It's never looking good. Just tell me how much time."

"Ten years I want to say. Tops."

"Well, look at that. A full decade." Tilda rolled her eyes, while running her hands along the french braid hanging behind her. Which – Steve observed – was pulled back with the same headband as the one she wore during their first meeting.

Ten years? Ten years for what? Steve pondered – Tilda didn't really seem to care. The number seemed to be just a number and if it had any severity to it, she certainly didn't show like she was fazed. So, he couldn't imagine it meant anything to the agent, though; the doctors were certainly looking as if the issue was something to be concerned about. And now it was going to bother him. What did she have ten years for?

"Agent Stygar, we are very sorry. We will continue to work incredibly hard to ensure the longevity-"

Cutting the doctor off, Tilda turned around and waved them off, "Don't break your back over it," Upon pulling her black tank top on, the orange haired agent stepped in front of the soldier, "Daily visit to the clinic, Captain Rogers?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. He could have sworn he heard some sarcastic humor in her voice. Though, he just shrugged, "Um, I only have to do this every other week. It's good to see you again, Agent Stygar."

"Tilda. Let's not stand too much on ceremony, hm? We are human, despite all evidence to the contrary," Tucking her hands in her back pocket, she explained, "I'm actually settling back into my apartment on base from my London station."

"Call me Steve then. I live on base as well – are you originally from London?"

She shook her head – not really committed to the question, "I was born in Seattle. Though, my family heritage can be traced back to Scandinavia."

It was obvious Tilda had no intention on staying still in one place. Her soon taking off out of the room; leaving Steve stunned for a moment before he caught up, "That's very interesting. I don't think my family really knows where we're from."

"Sure you do. You're the _American hero," _As they moved along the hallway, she turned up to him with one hand in her pocket and the other swinging freely, "We had collector cards in my house growing up. My mother even had a poster. She thought you were _dreamy._"

A slight blush graced his cheeks, "Oh, well...that's...cool?"

Tilda gave a small shrug, while tucking her other hand into her pant's pocket. Continuing to walk away. Not keeping the same speed as the male Avenger. Rather, walking ahead of him. He realized that upon seeing she was at least a good foot or so in front. He guessed they weren't heading out together – where would they even go? He really caught up with her for no reason, only to be thrown into an uncomfortable silence.

Yet again, though; he jogged up to her and asked, "I'm sorry to be intruding, but before Loki even began his attack I had no idea someone had tried to replicate the serum used on me. I was...well, _really _shocked to see what had happened to Dr. Banner. And now I'm finding out it was used on someone else as well. I guess it's well...I don't know...interesting, I guess?"

"How so?"

"I don't know...how did you discover that was what the serum did to you?"

She stopped. Not giving it much thought, she shrugged and answered, "I don't know. The experiments started out small. Found out if I concentrated enough I could move something with my mind. It started out with bending spoons. Now it's second nature."

"So..." Trying to find the best words, Steve asked, "Is it just..._lifting _things? I don't think I really understand."

Green eyes looked quizzically at the superhero. One eyebrow tilted up. As if she were trying to figure him out. And then suddenly Steve heard a small pop. Looking down he realized the top button to his short had been undone. Not by her hands, but by her mind. It was little, but because it had been so close to him he had to admit it freaked him out a little.

Finally, a small smirk formed on her lips as she walked backwards, "Captain." She lazily saluted, before turning around and walking away.

* * *

To shake the uneasy feeling off, Steve Rogers had gone to base's gym to work out. For some reason, punching a bag hanging from a ceiling made him feel better. It was a mindless task and took little to no concentration; so it was the perfect thing to take his focus off Tilda's unsettling gesture. Ever since he had woken up from his seventy year slumber he was being blown away every day.

For Dr. Bruce Banner, research was soothing. To sit in front of a pile of books and computer screens made him feel a little less than a monster and more...human. It reminded him of the days when he was just a doctor. Just a scientist and not...The Hulk. He may have been able to control the beast and be a great asset to the team, but it was still his burden to bear for all of eternity.

Director Nick Fury had asked him to simply overlook the findings of the doctors who were responsible for looking over Agent Tilda Stygar. The reasons as to why weren't clear, but Bruce didn't argue. Nor did he complain. He'd much rather his help be asked for research purposes than for his ability to...bring out the other guy.

It was an interesting case. Besides Captain Steve Rogers, the doctor wasn't aware there was anyone out there who had tried to use the serum. To his knowledge, he was the first to try and replicate it. After the disaster that had occurred as a result he had no idea why someone would even want to use gamma radiation as a part of it. Then again – that was science. Always trying to improve. Always trying to succeed. It was the burden of having a brilliant mind.

It was amazing to see the differences in the three of them. How their powers were all varied. Often – in experiments – the first one was usually unsuccessful and improved along the way. So, it was almost ironic that Steve, the first; was the best out of all of them. He was in peak condition, with no obvious side effects. Physically he performed well and nothing seemed to be wrong with his inner makings; over all Howard Stark and Dr. Erkskine had done a great job.

Unfortunately, with Dr. Erkskine dead the exact formula was dead. Perhaps Howard Stark knew, because of his involvement; but he never told Tony about it and nothing was written down. That allowed a large margin of error to happen; Dr. Banner having to guess most of it and lead to his involvement of gamma radiation.

Bruce tried to push all that aside. He didn't want to think about the experiment that ultimately changed his life. What was done was done and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to forget about the monster he could become, about the fact that there were people still after him, and the fact that he hadn't any companionship since then.

Shaking all that away, Bruce concentrated on the file up on the computer screen. The information had been transferred that day after her physical. Banner scrolling down, reading. Dr. Stygar had tried a different approach, altering the original serum and using small dosages of gamma radiation. Though, rather than it being just a one time thing in the other cases, it seemed Agent Tilda had been experimented on for two years before her father's arrest.

A new piece of information popped up and Bruce squinted his eyes. Reading the words carefully, before letting out a silent gasp. What an awful predicament to be in – if she knew then he understood her cold attitude. If she didn't, well god it wasn't a very good place to be in. It was certainly not what he had expected to learn.

"I'm sure now you know why I have asked you to step in." A voice spoke from behind – Bruce already knowing it was Fury who stepped into the study.

Sitting back, Bruce removed his glasses from his face and expressed, "I know understand the need for alarm, but...what can I do? What was the point in calling me in?"

Holding his hands behind his back, Fury answered, "To see if you could help. If you could fix it. Surely, no one is more capable than you. And perhaps you and Stark could work together to find a way out."

"You know Stark doesn't really work with anyone."

"I am aware of that," Nick sighed, "But, I would hate for the inevitable to happen. I would like to see if that could all be prevented."

Bruce sighed, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms, "I'm not really sure. The levels are extremely high and the damage is great. To be honest...nothing short of a miracle could cure this..."

A stern frown was plastered on the director's face, as he spoke, "I have seen you all do some impossible things. Accomplish feats that no one had expected you all to achieve. I have the utmost confidence that you can figure this dilemma out."

"Not that I'm insensitive, director, but why is it so important?"

Another sigh, "Because, doctor, it just is."


	3. Chapter 3

TC Stark: I'm back! With another chapter! Thank you to those who have reviewed and are following my story thus far. I hope you like Tilda. I wanted to tap into that numbness that I would surmise all SHIELD agents have, considering the nature of their work. They would very life and humanity much different than all of us. Sometimes she is going to make comments that are inappropriate, as she isn't entirely sure how to interact with others. I want to first concentrate on the primary relationship before entering the plot line. I don't want to rush too much, I want it to build up. Anyway, lemme not talk anymore. Yamiyugifan01 – yes! That's the whole point, I want you to read in their voices, this does take place in that universe with those characters heehee MutiaRAWR – I don't wanna give anything away too fast. And she's twenty-six. She's been with SHIELD for ten years. I hope you continue to like the relationship building between them. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Tilda and my idea. I make no money writing this, just the love I receive from you guys!

Chapter Three

"You're doing a great job out there, Cap."

Steve Rogers had returned from a long day of volunteering in New York City when he was approached by Natasha Romanoff. The city had made waves in the recovery effort, but they still had some kinks to work out. And considering the Avengers were part of the reason for all the destruction, the soldier thought it was only right to lend a helping hand.

Sheepishly smiling, he scratched the back of his head and shrugged, "Well, it's the least I can do. I'm just like any other man out there helping."

Smirking, the former Russian spy pointed out, "You're definitely not like any _other_ man."

"Well, thanks," Steve gave her a smile, "So, where are you heading to?"

"The shooting range. Would you like to join?"

That was what it meant to be an agent – always training. They never knew who or what the next threat would be and they all needed to be prepared for anything. It was different for the captain and the two SHIELD members. While he had wanted nothing more to be a part of the American military, he had a feeling that neither Barton nor Romanoff had chosen their occupations. They were simply thrown in a life they both accepted and didn't question.

Still, he gracefully declined, "I'm actually pretty hungry from volunteering all day. I'm going to get some food."

Natasha nodded, with a small smile, "Well, you know where to find me."

* * *

It seemed like perhaps the American legend had taken a little too long for Natasha's liking. After picking up something to eat, he went back in his apartment to shower all the dirt away from his body and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. While he had a lot in his one bedroom, he wasn't one to simply sit around and do nothing. Simply idling around wasn't something he was used to or was very fond of. It had seemed like that had become all too common in the modern day world.

Still, by the time Steve had actually gone to the gun range Natasha was nowhere to be found. SHIELD's weapon training room was a large room and he was making sure he wasn't missing her, when he heard a voice, "Natasha got a phone call and had to leave. Non-SHIELD related."

Turning towards the voice, he noticed Tilda standing in one of the cubicles – pistol in her hand and her arms outstretched. Headphones were covering her ears, as she pulled the trigger. Once again, an agent's work was never done. And it didn't surprise him that Natasha was pulled away from the agency to deal with something non-related. As a former Russian spy, she still had a lot of loose ends that seemingly popped up every once and a while.

After taking another shot, the orange haired agent placed her gun down on the ledge and pulled her headphones off while turning around, "You were on the news today."

Steve raised his eyebrow. It had been two weeks since the two had seen each other – not surprising. Although they both lived on base, the campus was huge and it was possible to go extended periods of time without seeing a certain colleague. Actually, it was kind of surprising that he had run into Natasha earlier in the day.

But, that wasn't what he was stunned by. Caught off guard, he cleared his throat, "Yea...some kids like taking videos on their phones – Tilda, you look _really _tired."

It was true. There were some pretty severe dark circles under her eyes and there wasn't as much color in her face. It didn't look like any kind of normal fatigue he had ever seen before – it was a bit alarming for him. Sighing, Tilda walked forward and began taking her fingerless gloves off, "I'm always tired."

"Really?" Steve turned his head, as Tilda walked passed him and sat down on a bench nearby.

Tilda's green eyes lifted up – as if curious as to why it was even an issue. Shaking her head, she took the glove off the other hand and reverted back to the previous topic, "So, the kids really like you, huh? I see you volunteering a lot – you're a paparazzi's wet dream."

Coughing, Rogers' feet shifted uncomfortably. Regaining his composure, he suggested, "Yea, well, I don't really mind. I'm kind of hoping it gets the effort more help. You should really come down and volunteer sometime."

"Why? I didn't nearly level the city," Tilda coldly responded while taking a swig of water. After taking a moment, she thinned her lips and looked back up at him, "I apologize. That was uncalled for. I'm just tired and don't really care for large gatherings."

Shifting rather uneasily, the boy from Brooklyn tried to crack a smile, "It's fine...it can get a little uncomfortable sometimes. But, that was really in the beginning. I think now they've gotten used to it. Especially since I don't wear the uniform – they're starting to view me as just an ordinary civilian."

"You're certainly _not _an _ordinary _civilian, Captain." The agent formed a small, lazy grin.

That was the second person to say something along those lines that day. Steve hid his small blush; he really tried to just be like any other person. He didn't want any special treatment, despite his situation. Tragedy occurred in everyone's lives and he was dealing with it just the way others would. Maybe if everyone stopped looking for special treatment, the world would be a little more at peace. That was at least the way he viewed it.

Running his fingers through his blonde hair, the captain gave a small shrug, "Well, thank you. Um, Tilda, I have a question. I, ugh, I really hope you don't mind..."

Cocking an eyebrow, Tilda tilted her head, "And what would that be?"

Steve let out a small cough into his fist, while sitting down next to her. He didn't fail to notice the way her body slightly tensed up and did her best to inconspicuously shift away. Was this the same girl who just two weeks ago had no problem stripping down to her bra and underwear in front of him? Perhaps she just didn't like that close of contact, but he was trying to speak to her as one person to another. It seemed a little impersonal for him to be standing over her.

Still, he was respectful and moved away as well, turning his head and asking, "Two weeks ago...when I was in the doctor's office, I asked them when they thought I would start aging. I mean, jeez I'm practically ninety. They said...they didn't know _if _I'd ever start aging. And Dr. Banner – there doesn't seem to be any end game to him either. I was just wondering; what have they told you? I'm just curious if the serum has the same longevity effect on everyone."

Tilda's face was expressionless. Steve didn't know if he had said something to offend the agent, but she wasn't saying anything fast. He had just wanted to know if it was just him that seemed to be _immortal _or if it was everyone affected by the serum. During Loki's attack on the Earth, Bruce had shared a very haunting imagery of shooting himself in the mouth and the Hulk having spit it out. Did that mean that they could never die? How was that even possible?

Finally, the orange haired girl stood up. The captain watched as she walked over to the booth she was just in and picked up the hand gun. Steve raised an eyebrow, as she walked over to him and held it out, "Here."

Confused, Steve asked, "What's this for?"

After taking a step back, she held her hands out to the side and motioned, "You asked a question. So, let's test it out. Pull the trigger."

"What!?" Steve gawked, setting the gun down and immediately shooting up.

Tilda let out a small smirk, "Great achievements are never won without taking risks. You wanted answers – figure them out."

Shaking his head incredulously, the all American boy insisted, "Ma'am, I cannot in my right mind agree to that."

"Ma'am?" Tilda gave out a small chuckle, while placing her hands on her hips, "I can see where your _good ol' American soldier _mentality is coming in. But, I'm a SHIELD agent, Rogers. And a science experiment. I've been through a lot of trials and errors – believe me, just pull the trigger."

Steve gulped. Surely, this was crazy. What was she even thinking? Willing pulling a trigger at someone? Suddenly, the imagery was very similar to when Peggy had taken the shot at him. Sure, he had the shield to protect him, but he was fired at. All because of a misunderstanding. Not that he didn't understand. The last thing he ever wanted was to kiss anyone else but her; he wouldn't want her to see anything like that.

Sighing, he picked up the gun. He had seen a lot of things being part of the Avengers. Part of SHIELD. Being asked to willing shoot at another human being was definitely new. Especially a woman. It wasn't something he was particularly comfortable with, but it was obvious that the agent wasn't going to move until he did something. Was this really what they were reduced to? Science experiments?

Gulping once more, Steve picked up the gun. Looking down at it, he took in a deep breath before aiming and pulling the trigger. Wanting to get it all over with as soon as possible. Eyes shut, he soon heard, "Are you going to look or what?"

Upon hearing those words, the soldier's eyelids flew open and he saw that he didn't hurt Tilda at all. The bullet he had fired seemed to be stopped mid-air. Only a few inches away from the center of her chest. Her hands weren't held out. Her feet were planted in place. And yet, the bullet hovered above the ground, seemingly having been stopped by her mind.

And then after a second, the bullet hit the ground. Having not harmed a single hair on her body. Eyes wide, he placed the gun down and walked towards the ginger, "Did you stop that? With your mind?"

"I guess you've proven your theory?"

Clearing his throat, Steve raised an eyebrow and stated, "That was a bit...um..._extreme._"

"How? I knew what was going to happen." Tilda shrugged, walking over to the rack which held her thin clothed black hoodie.

While she slipped the hoodie on, the blonde haired man shifted uncomfortably and ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't believe he had just done that and she acted like it was nothing. Nonchalantly zipping her jacket up and tying her orange hair back. He was so utterly confused – he had no idea what was going on. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage. It was like she really didn't care what happened...

"Tilda? Did I...did I do something to offend you?" Steve eventually asked, just as she was walking away.

With her hands shoved in her pockets, Tilda turned her head and gave a small shrug, "I don't worry about a thing...it's just a waste of my time." She stated, before turning and walking away.

* * *

Tilda had left Steve confused that day. He didn't know what had happened and didn't know what to think. He felt perplexed. Every interaction with the strange girl had been odder than the last. In all reality he really had no idea what to think – he couldn't believe she had instructed him to shoot a bullet at her. And that it hadn't even touched her. What had happened to their humanity? They were becoming something more than just humans...

Natasha's responsibilities had only taken up the day and she was back on SHIELD's base the very next evening. As much as she wanted it to go away, there was always going to be red in her ledger and there were going to be times when events in the past came back to bite her in the ass. She excepted it as part of the job and went on with her life. There was no need to weep or be concerned; she didn't live her life in fear nor did she constantly look over her shoulder. She merely dealt with it.

There was only one thing that haunted her in the night. _Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red. _Loki's words pierced deep within Natasha's brain. Repeating constantly. Looping in circles every day – invading her dreams at night. Preventing her her from ever achieving a proper night's sleep. She bore no physical scars from the events that took place on the island of New York, but she knew she would forever be mentally enslaved by the Asgardian.

Every time the redhead closed her eyes, she saw _him. _Saw his cunning smirk. The knowing glint in his green eyes as he bore down on her. Hunting her as if she were easy prey. In the reflection of his gaze Natasha didn't feel like the Black Widow. Like a trained Russian spy. Like a high skilled assassin. Like a member of SHIELD and now the Avengers. No, when Loki looked at her, all she felt was broken and the weight of her sins pressed even further down on her shoulders.

"Your knuckles are bleeding."

Natasha hadn't heard Tilda walk into the gym. As highly skilled as she was, the other woman was an agent as well. Both trained under SHIELD. So, it was plausible for the orange haired agent to step in and not be detected. It was a trait that both of them shared – so much of what they were was to make them the perfect weapon.

Upon Tilda's comment, Natasha looked down and noticed she was right. Despite the bandages wrapped around her knuckles, there was still red blood seeping through. In her state, she hadn't noticed how hard she was hitting the bag. How she had split the skin open. She had felt no pain as the adrenaline rushed through her veins – the only thing in her mind was Loki. And the need to erase him from her memory entirely.

Standing straight up, the redhead turned and simply stated, "I hardly noticed."

The other woman snorted, while walking around to the front of her colleague, "Like in Ahiwara when you didn't notice there was barbed wire wrapped around your leg?"

Natasha shrugged, "It felt like a bug bite."

"You look troubled." Tilda observed, while picking up a roll of bandages and beginning to wrap them around her own knuckles.

"Nothing more than the usual."

"You've been tortured before – somehow a spoiled brat has got a hold of you?"

The redhead's eyes shifted over and locked with her fellow agent. The two had fought alongside each other a few times, had come across each other, and had gotten to know each other. Both on guard. Both able to read others. Natasha would be lying if she said that her troubles wouldn't be easily detected by other agents, such as Barton. Who knew she was plagued by memories of Loki, just as he was.

Unwrapping her own bandages, Natasha remarked, "Just another side effect of war."

"Each battle chipping away another piece of us." Tilda added.

"Until we're dead."

"Aren't we already?" The other raised an eyebrow, "On the inside?"

The comment stopped Natasha. Not because it offended her or because it was untrue – it was the truth entirely. She knew why she was so affected by Loki, "I allowed myself feel human again, to try and manipulate him. It was a mistake; I hadn't predicted on him being able to tap into that. But, I won't allow him to damage years of training."

Tilda nodded. Understanding. It was important not to care in their field. Not to have those human emotions that other civilians did. There was no room for that in their lives. A career where life was so easily destroyed. Fellow colleagues killed in a blink of an eye. One's own life jeopardized constantly. The very idea of living simply became...unnecessary. They were there to do a job and nothing more. There was nothing else meant for them other than being a weapon. A machine for war.

Deciding it best to come back later, Tilda remarked, "Then I will leave you to your demons."

Natasha nodded, grateful for the respectful gesture, "Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

TC Stark: I'm getting so excited for the development of this story. I keep imagining what's going to happen further down the road. I hope I'm not going too fast. Or too slow. Please let me know if I am. In the meantime enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Disclaimer: I only own my OC and my ideas. I in no way make any sort of profit from writing this other than the loyalty and appreciation of my fans heehee

Chapter Four

"Tell me again, why should I care?"

It was to be expected that Tony Stark would be reluctant to help out with anything that didn't directly have anything to do with him. The narcissist had no problem with letting others know when he was bored and it was often evident that he wasn't paying any attention. It was the reason why he was originally kicked off the Avengers project – SHIELD didn't need someone like the billionaire working on their team.

So, in reality Dr. Banner and Director Fury shouldn't have been too surprised when they approached Stark and asked him to search through his father's files. For the past few weeks Bruce had been researching Agent Stygar's case and had gone to the one eyed man about the possibility of getting Tony involved. He should have known better.

Rocking side to side in his swivel chair, Stark played absentmindedly with his pen and added, "We didn't exactly have the best start if you remember."

"I wonder why," Directory Fury huffed, "Your cooperation would be appreciated."

"Just take a look." Bruce extended his arm, a manilla envelope in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, the Iron Man huffed and yanked the folder out of the doctor's hand. Flapping it open, his eyes scanned the words over quickly, before shrugging, "Tragic. Now, if you two will excuse me – I have to get ready to do something...more interesting than this."

The dark skinned agent sighed, rounding in front of the playboy – who had stood up to walk away – and urged, "Tony, must it always be about you?"

"Most of the time, yea."

"Yes, well, take a moment to think about someone else. It won't take up much of your time."

Tony snorted, fiddling with a few items on his desk, "Actually – it would. My father's notes are full of encrypted codes and – no. Just not doing it. Tell me," His head flew up, looking at Fury curiously, "Why is this so important? You've got other agents; Barton and Natasha. And, um – oh – Hill? Is her name? Yea – what's the big deal about this one?"

"Tony, the same serum used on me was used on her. A different variation of the same serum your father used on -" Before Bruce was able to say anything else, Fury interrupted.

Clearing his throat, Fury explained, "You're right. There isn't anything particularly special about Agent Stygar. She's an agent, just like everyone else who is a part of SHIELD. Maybe it's the one last humane bone in my body – seen that girl for the last ten years. Watched her personality take a turn for the worst; maybe I just felt bad about what happened. So, excuse me for feeling a little responsible about trying to give her a decent life."

Bruce and Tony were silent. Looking over at the director with question. It was after a beat that Stark commented, "Well, isn't that sweet. Sentimental even. It's like...wow, it's like Daddy One-Eye over here, huh? It's like-"

"Are you going to _help _or not, Stark?" Fury cut him off, his voice laced with irritation and the need to shut the billionaire up.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, Tony reluctantly threw his hands up, "I'll see what I can do. Alright? Does that satisfy you?"

Fury groaned, "Yes. That wasn't too hard, now was it?"

"It was, actually. Now, if you two would both leave – I have Pepper coming here soon and you two simply wouldn't be a part of anything I'm going to do to her."

"_Please, _say no more." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

There was absolutely no way that Tilda would ever want anyone besides Fury and the doctors at SHIELD to know about her predicament. If anyone else were to find out, she would be very upset. She wouldn't be able to look upon them and not think that they pity her. Anything they said or did would not be perceived as sincere, rather merely an obligation due to her condition. If there was one thing she truly despised in the world: it was pity.

So, the director made damn sure she hadn't a clue that Dr. Banner was doing research on her case. As advanced as the SHIELD's science department was; they weren't as bright as the likes of Bruce and Tony. Their mental capacities were much more advanced and as much as Fury hated to admit it, he needed Stark in on what they were doing.

And even though the one eyed man knew, Tilda did not like discussing it. To her it was what it was and there was no use in even trying to do something about it. In her mind, she was a machine whose sole purpose was to serve. She would continue to perform at an admirable level and do what was expected of her as a SHIELD member. Just like many agents, she had become cold and hardened to any sentimental feelings that the outside would may experience on a daily basis. There hardly was ever weeping; to them that made them weak. And there was no room for weakness in war. And they were always at war.

That was the very reason for the director calling Captain Steve Rogers in. Fury knew the soldier took his own duties seriously and because he was now essentially a member of SHIELD, he would take whatever orders given to him. Not only that, he was respectful and because the agency was taking care of him, he didn't mind doing a favor or two here and there.

"Not by any circumstance are you to open this, captain." Fury instructed, while handing the other man the closed manilla folder, which had Bruce's findings in it, but in no way contained the doctor's name in it.

With a firm nod, the blonde haired man reassured, "Absolutely no problem, director. I'll get this right to her."

The two men gave each other a nod of mutual respect, before Steve turned and headed out. There were still many things about SHIELD that were unknown to the soldier and perhaps a little shady, but he had learned to take everything with a grain of salt. Originally, he had been appalled with what the agency was doing, but after the events on the island of Manhattan he had learned that the lines separating right and wrong had been blurred since his days.

It didn't take him too long to arrive at Agent Stygar's apartment – Fury having given him the coordinates. Their quarters weren't very close to each other, but he didn't mind the travel. Steve had woken up early to work out in the gym and had gone down to the city for a little bit to volunteer. He had then gone back to his own apartment to shower and change into a fresh pair of slacks, a white tee shirt, and a blue checkered button up shirt. So, his day was pretty much free.

Steve took in a big breath. He hadn't seen Tilda since she had asked him to willingly shoot a gun at her. It had shaken him up just a bit. Not really knowing how to feel about it and how to act around her. He had never really met someone with such little regard for their own life. Who was willing to take such risks in such a non-risk environment.

But, still he had a mission and therefore knocked on the door and waited. It wasn't long before the door opened and Tilda appeared on the other side. Instantly, Steve gulped and his cheeks flushed slightly as he saw the agent was in nothing more than a pair of gray low rise sweatpants and a black sports bra. Her bright orange hair freely hanging behind her back, a black cloth headband holding it back.

"Hello, Tilda." Steve nervously greeted, trying to avoid looking down at her well toned abs.

"Hey," She greeted, while leaning on the door-frame and unapologetically looking him up and down, "What can I do for you?"

Oblivious to this fact, he instead extended his arm and explained, "Fury wanted me to give this to you."

Tilda let out a small sigh, while taking the manilla folder and giving a weak smile, "Thanks."

Steve gave a small nod as well, not really sure what to do. Shifting uncomfortably, he was just about to turn and leave when Tilda offered for him to come in and have a drink. Not wanting to be rude, he agreed to stay for a beverage. Even though alcohol had no affect on him; he wondered if it did affect the other science experiment?

Watching her nonchalantly toss the manilla folder aside on her couch, he noticed that unlike his apartment – which was a one bedroom – hers instead was a studio. He wondered if that was the only living space left or if she was preferred it. Either way, it was neat. Kept clean – though, there wasn't much occupying it. It could have been due to her moving from London or if it was because she just didn't have many possessions.

And just like any agent or soldier in the military, Tilda's bed was neatly kept. Folded in the right places. Sheets fresh. Pillow placed square in the middle. It reminded him of his time in the military and all that he had learned. Everything seemed much simpler back then and seeing someone else keep their living quarters the same way he did made him quite nostalgic.

While he was looking around, he hadn't noticed two glasses of chilled scotch being placed on the kitchen counter. Not until she cleared her throat, alerting him. Steve gave out his own little cough in the fist of his hand, before heading over and lifting up his glass, "Thank you. Heh...you know, it's impossible for alcohol to have any effect on me."

"I've done research on your case before, you just have to drink four times the normal consumption of alcohol." Tilda quirked an eyebrow up, while taking a sip of her own beverage.

Steve bowed his head down, though; ultimately smiled, "I don't think I'd like that. Does it have an effect on you?"

She shrugged, "Not as fast as others, but eventually."

Steve nodded. Eventually, they fell into silence. Him not exactly sure what to talk about. But, he drank all the same. It had been so long since he had even had alcohol. He forgot how awful it tasted. Still, he didn't want to be rude and it wasn't like he was going to feel inebriated. And, he supposed it was a nice gesture. Perhaps they were moving forward and actually getting along. It was an important aspect to have with other members of a team.

"So...I hope I'm not being rude or inappropriate, but...that one day we were in the medical wing...I noticed you have um...you have-"

"A tattoo." She finished, knowing he was having a hard time forming the words.

He gave a quick smile, "Yea. Um, what is it of?"

Pulling up a stool, Tilda explained, "It's a velociraptor. Growing up...I was a bit into dinosaurs. I thought it was pretty interesting and spent a lot of time researching them," Shrugging, she casually continued, "I wanted a tattoo...seemed to make sense at the time."

"Ah...well, it's nice," Steve gave a small smile, "Not many women had any in my day."

"How was it back in your day?"

"Hm?"

Taking another sip of her drink, Tilda gave a small smile along with a shrug that made her almost seem human, "I love the 1940s. Everything about it was so interesting...those lessons were my favorite in history class...I had wanted to be a historian. Majoring in the Great Depression/World War II time period."

Furrowing his eyebrows together, the blonde haired man asked, "Why hadn't you?"

A grim look came across the agent's face, as she answered, "After I was pawned off to SHIELD, my only _studies _were on how to become an expert agent."

"Oh." Steve stayed quiet. He wasn't exactly sure what to say. Somehow forgetting that at the age of sixteen Tilda's life had took a change. And that she hadn't been able to continue a conventional course that many teenagers experienced.

Seeing him become uncomfortable, she casually spoke up, "So, the 40s?"

"Right," He picked himself up, "Um, what would you like to know?"

With a small shrug, Tilda tilted her head and insisted, "Whatever you feel like telling me."

It had been so long since Steve had even concentrated on the era which he was from. His days were spent trying his hardest to grasp the modern world. Attempting to understand the ways of the world he was thrown into. All the technology that had seemed so farfetched when he was growing up. Did he even remember where he was from anymore?

Slowly, the words began to roll off his tongue. Tales of him growing up starting coming out of his lips. He told her about his passion to draw, how he wished to become an illustrator. And how that all seemed to go down the tube once the war started. And then he began to tell her about the streets of Brooklyn. Playing stick ball with other children. Getting beat up in alleyways. The music – the cars. Times with Bucky. He wasn't sure if any of it was what she wanted to hear, but he found once he started about his past he couldn't stop. It felt good to remember.

"Did you ever have a date?" Tilda eventually asked, going off of the last point of topic.

Stopping, Steve's gaze focused on the girl before him as he blinked, "What?"

Unmoving, she simply replied, "You were explaining all the times you were a third wheel to your friend Bucky and his women. Didn't you ever have a girl?"

"Oh," Clearing his throat, he awkwardly explained, "I, ugh...no. Not really. Bucky tried, but compared to him I looked like a shriveled up chicken wing."

"I'm sure that changed after the transformation."

Steve became silent. Images of Peggy flashed through his mind. After all that had happened, he was finally able to work himself to the point where he didn't see her face anymore. That he was so distracted there was no time to realize that she was probably gone. That he would never see her again. That she was ripped from him before they had ever even had a chance to see their romance truly blossom.

"Have I offended you?" Tilda asked, casually raising an eyebrow as her face remained still.

Shaking his head, the man from the past attempted to push the images away, "Just...thinking about a girl I used to know."

Taking a sip of her drink, the agent nodded, "There will always be _someday _we _used _to know."

Steve nodded. His drink was finished and he was thinking maybe he should leave. Their conversation was heading to a particularly dark place and he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to talk about. Considering how little they knew of each other. Though, it didn't seem like she cared much. Looking at him with curiosity and seeing no problem with asking such personal questions. As if it were nothing serious.

And just before he was about to excuse himself, he noticed something. Squinting his eyes, he realized that a small trail of blood was gently streaming from her nostril, "Tilda, your nose is bleeding."

Touching the side of her thumb against her upper lip, the orange haired girl pulled her hand back and groaned upon seeing he was right, "I apologize. This happens sometimes."

Unfazed, Tilda set her glass down and turned to reached for the paper towel. But, Steve was already on it. The soldier rushed around the counter, yanking tissue from its holder and going for the blood. His military instincts were kicking in and for that moment he forgot that he was particularly close to the female agent – forgetting all aspects of shyness and personal space; only wanting to help the other person.

Feeling like she had a grasp of the situation, Tilda pulled back from the frantic captain while keeping the tissue pressed against her nostrils, "Steve, I'm fine. This happens sometimes. I'm used to it."

Wide eyed, Steve asked, "Have you seen the doctors about it?"

"They know, yes. It's no big deal," Pulling the tissue away, she bundled it up and threw it out before standing up and going to the sink, "Thank you." She added, before turning the water on and washing her hands.

"You said this happens often? Do you feel alright? Maybe you should sit down." He insisted, seeing her casually pick the glasses up and going to rinse them.

Placing the two glasses in the sink, she turned the faucet off and turned towards him, "Why does this alarm you?"

Blinking, Steve shrugged and explained, "Well...you were in distress...and I can't idly sit around and not do anything."

"It was just a bloody nose," Tilda stood up straight, tilting her head, "Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine. Would you mind if I were left alone to lie down? I'm feeling tired."

But, he only frowned further, "A bloody nose and you're feeling tired? Tilda, I really think you should go to the doctor."

A part of her wanted to become frustrated. She didn't often like those who attempted to pry into her comfort zone. But, he was such a gentleman that she found herself controlling that part of her and instead weakly smiled, "I've told you before – I'm always tired. It's nothing new to me. I spend many hours in the lab; being prodded like the science experiment that I am. And when I'm not doing that, I am training. Like the machine SHIELD wants me to be. It is all very tiring; so please understand when I say I am _fine._" She explained in an even tone, never once raising her voice.

Tightening his lips, he had no other choice but to nod in defeat, "Alright, but let me check up on you? I don't feel right just walking away."

"You really are a man from another time," Tilda observed, "If you insist, come later tomorrow afternoon. I have prior obligations."

Steve nodded. He wasn't comfortable leaving – fearing that perhaps she wasn't feeling well and wasn't too comfortable in leaving her alone. But, he had the feeling he was stepping over some kind of boundary and didn't want to offend her. He certainly hadn't wanted to embarrass her either, but his fight or flight reaction had kicked in the moment he saw blood.

After Steve left, Tilda ran her fingers through her hair and let out a sigh. She really didn't need to be getting close to anyone. Perhaps inviting him in for a drink was a bad idea, but social norms dictated that it was only polite. And besides, she had wanted to ask him about the 1940s. Her interest peaked. Besides, the name _Captain America _was spoken often in her household. Her mother constantly swooning and her father using him as the inspiration of his experiment – she might as well have tried to see what the big deal was about.

The man was too kind for his own good. Men weren't so chivalrous anymore and if he wasn't one hundred percent sincere, she would have been very offended by his actions. But, the image the public had of him was only confirmed in her mind. Seeing there was a reason as to why her family was obsessed with him and why he was regarded as a hero.

That only made her wish he'd stay away even more.

Snorting, she picked up a pack of cigarettes from the side of her bed. Lighting one up and sitting down – finally caring enough to open the manilla folder up and see what garbage Fury had thrown her way. Not that she faulted him – she supposed he felt some sort of obligation towards her. And maybe it was the same humane part of him that felt almost like a father figure. But, he really should listen more to her – there really was no point in doing otherwise. It was all inevitable.


End file.
